


Rumors

by Emyrldlady



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blood, Hot Sex, Knives, M/M, Ranger Phil, SHIELD Recruitment Tactics, Twink Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emyrldlady/pseuds/Emyrldlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Hawkeye really was recruited... or shot... or something...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be 1000 words of smut. Evidently I was wrong. I suck at pwp.
> 
> Thanks to AmazonX for the beta.

 

 

SHIELD is full of rumors; everyone knows that. It’s simply the nature of an organization that’s based on secrets. As a result, the water cooler conversations really aren’t about what you watched on TV the night before. Well, except for Game of Thrones, that show’s fucked up and everyone at SHIELD loves it.

Rumors and fact get exaggerated. For example, Phil Coulson did NOT kill anyone with a paper clip. He did, however, use one to perform an emergency tracheotomy on a prisoner who somehow had his larynx crushed. We won’t discuss the how or by whom, that just muddles the point. Point being that he did not, in fact, KILL someone with a paper clip. Once the prisoner could breathe again and gratefully told Phil what he needed to know about the supposed crime lord’s operation, well…let’s just say that SHEILD prison facilities are dramatically underutilized.

When the elusive assassin Hawkeye is brought in limping and bleeding from a gunshot wound in his thigh, rumors start. Especially when Phil Coulson is seen escorting him to medical, tie slightly askew and a small smug smile in place.  Everyone knows once Phil Coulson is sent on a retrieval mission, he doesn’t come back empty handed, even if he has to shoot his prey.

But the rumors are nothing compared to how Hawkeye really got shot.

***

Ten years earlier, in New Orleans, Command Sgt. Philip J. Coulson was on leave from his Rangers unit in one of the wildest cities at one of the wildest times of the year: New Orleans during Mardi Gras.

At 32, Phil was lean muscle; his frame compact but broad shouldered. He wasn’t tall and his military haircut hid his slightly receding hairline. His light blue eyes could be friendly or cold as ice. He had a bland look when he needed it, and never stood out more than was needed. He got his promotions easily but without grandstanding. But his CO's always thought he was holding back something.

Phil had a great sense of direction, so when he finally slipped free of his buddies, he struck out on his own. The strip club they had picked to go to with mostly naked women wasn’t really his thing. Don’t misunderstand, he liked his share of soft curves and womanly sighs, but not tonight. Tonight, he wanted it rough and hard, with sandpapered cheeks and tattooed biceps. He’d heard that there were a few bars more to his liking near St. Ann Street and Bourbon and headed there once he was free of his friends.

Phil had a good buzz going, feeling happy and about to get lucky. Hey, if you can’t get laid during Mardi Gras, you’re never gonna get laid, right? Phil ducked down one of the narrow alleyways that came out on St. Anne. He moved left when he should have gone right and bumped into a big guy staggering down the alley causing him to spill his beer.

“Oh, geez. I’m sorry,” Phil said apologizing good-naturedly.

“What the fuck is your problem?” boomed the other guy. He was huge, probably 6’5 and about 300 lbs. and not in the mood for apologies.

Phil again tried for good natured. “I said I was sorry. Here,” Phil pulled a couple of bills from his pocket, “let me get your next one.”

The big guy got in Phil’s face. “What’samatter? You in a hurry? That why you were running?” He chuckled over his shoulder at his buddies who were also drunk and nodding their heads.

Phil innocently put up his hands, showing he was harmless. “Hey, we’re all here to have a good time. _Laissez les bons temps rouler_!”

One of the big guy’s friend started to close in on Phil from the side and that was not the right thing to do. “What’s with foreign stuff, huh, sailor boy? You think you better’n us?”

Phil slowly went from a passive stance to a more strategic one, keeping all three of the men easily at arm's length. “It’s French, it’s what they say down here. And I am not a sailor.” Phil was wearing cammo pants and an Army t-shirt, his Ranger tattoo visible beneath. “I’m not looking for trouble, just headin’ to a bar, just like you guys.”

The third guy eyed the cash still in Phil’s hand. “Way I see it, you owe us all a beer. Mebee more.”

Phil lost his genial smile. “That ain’t gonna happen, fellas.”

“I think Felix here is right,” the big guy said. “Maybe we should just take the rest of your cash and have us a good time. On you of course.” He closed in on Phil while his friends blocked the alley so Phil couldn’t run.

Phil’s voice got very low. “I’m going to give you a chance to change your mind about this. Trust me, you really, _really_ don’t want to do this.”

The smallest guy, Felix laughed. “Sailor boy, you ain’t got a chance. Just hand it all over and I’ll make sure that Bub here only hurts you a little.”

Bub smiled and threw a meaty paw. Phil ducked, but the man’s hand was huge and caught him on the cheek, splitting it. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Bub. And I said, I'm not a sailor.” Phil’s voice was cold as he flicked open his combat knife. It had appeared in Phil's hand as if out of nowhere.

Bub swung again, with better aim this time, but Phil put up his left forearm and blocked the punch, absorbing the impact with a quiet grunt. With his right, he sliced through Bub's shirt and cut him with the knife, not a deep wound but one that made a mess. Phil chuckled as he bounced on his heels away from the larger man, toying with him.

Bub just got angrier, thinking Phil was making fun of him and charged with a growl.

Phil used Bub's momentum, grabbing his arm and spinning him into the alley wall he heard a satisfying crunch as Bub hit the wall face first.

Bub's two friends finally jumped into the fray, each grabbing one of Phil's arms.  Felix was quick with several punches to Phil's kidneys, but the third was about Phil's build but had a clumsy hold, his drinking evident.

With a quick kick to Felix's leg that shattered his knee cap and a slash of his knife to loosen his hold, Phil turned on the third. By now, Phil's eyes had gone black with blood lust and he lashed out with his blade slashing both cheeks, scaring the man's face. Then again, two quick slashes down the man's forearms and again as he put his hands up to defend himself, Phil cut his palms.

The man howled in pain and ran out of the alley into the crowd, but his screams couldn't be heard over the din of the revelers.

Phil spun on his heel, knife at the ready for more, but saw Bub hauling Felix down the other end of the alley. Each of them cursing in pain, a trail of blood in their wake.

Phil could hear his pulse rushing in his ears, his breath sharp, and the slight pain from Felix's punches pleasurable. He looked at his bloodied hands, untucked his shirt and wiped them then the blade carefully before putting it back in his pocket.

Phil rolled his shoulders and walked out the alley towards the bar, his hips rolling with his gait, a sensual stalk now. His eyes were still dark with lust, but he'd fulfill it not with blood, but hot and hard sex. Tonight, he prowled the French Quarter like he owned it. As crowded as it was, the revelers got out of his way, the feral look in his eye and blood on his clothes helped.

Above Phil, hidden behind the ornate wrought iron of an upper balcony, crouched a thin youth of about nineteen. Wild brown/blonde hair, blue eyes rimmed with kohl in tight black leather pants and an open purple poet’s shirt, the type all the wannabe Lestat's wore. He slowly released the breath he had been holding and moved his hand to his groin palming the erection he'd gotten while watching the guy in the Army t-shirt. "That had to be the fucking hottest thing I've ever seen," he thought.


	2. Blood and Twinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pete" meet "Charlie" he thinks your blood soaked shirt is hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO SOOOO sorry this took so long to put another chapter up. Life pretty much threw up on me for a while. I'm hoping to get this finished in the next week or so. This is a short one but hopefully hot.

 

 

Phil stood alone at the bar, beer in hand. His body was still thrumming from the fight. He felt the pounding beat of the music and closed his eyes to absorb it into himself.

When he’d found the right bar he worked his way along the dance floor, throngs of hot bodies grinding on one another. He’d expected an easy mark, but even the drunkest of twinks seemed to give him and his bloodied clothes a wide berth. His frustration mounted until he felt someone come up on his left draping himself along the bar and looking up at Phil through his lashes.

“Buy me a drink?” the youth said, his fingers grazing Phil’s arm resting on the bar.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” Phil replied, sipping his beer.

“Do you really care?” The boy’s voice was flatly Midwestern, he wasn’t a local.

Phil put down his drink and looked the twink over. Leather pants that hugged the lithe body, purple frilly shirt open and bared his chest that shone with sweat and glitter. Hair a bit wild to go with the dangling earing, he even had eyeliner and pale pink lip gloss on. And damn Phil really wanted to see that shade on his dick. But he knew this twink would run once he got a good look, just like the others.

Phil turned and faced the boy, the blood on his shirt evident and the hunger in his eyes more so. He waited for him to withdraw. “Still want that drink.”

The boy’s eyes roamed Phil, noting the blood, his stance, the bulge in his pants. He swallowed hard, “No.”

Phil’s eyes went cool. “Thought so.”

“I want you to fuck me. Hard, rough and up against the nearest wall.”

Phil’s hand clenched around his empty glass. “I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want it gentle. I want to feel it days from now.”

Phil raised his hand to the boy’s face, despite his youth and makeup he felt the slight stubble that would graze and burn his skin. His fingers trailed down to rest along the prominent collar bone and felt him shiver.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The youth licked his pink glossy lips. “Charlie.”

Phil knew he was lying. “I’m Pete.”

‘Charlie’ ducked his head shyly, it was a practiced move but Phil didn’t mind. “Hi Pete. You gonna fuck me now?”

“You hustling?” Not that Phil cared.

“Not tonight.” Charlie moved into Phil’s space, his hand landed on Phil’s stomach, fingers firm against the blood stained shirt, trailing down to cup his hard on.

Phil clenched his hand around Charlie’s neck and watched the youth’s eyes dilate and darken. “Outside. Now.”

 


	3. Alley Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suck at chapter titles. Phil is brutal, Clint likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this is very bad chapter! Very bad!! I in NO WAY condone the type of sex they are having! Strangers, alleyway, blood, no condoms! It is not safe at all!
> 
> Also, it's hard enough keeping track of pronouns with M/M I had to be an idiot and throw in alias' as well. I'm sure I mangled it.

 

“Down here.” Phil let the twink lead him down a side alley. His eyes never leaving the sweet ass swaying in front of him.

“Here, fuck me here.” The young man’s voice was high and breathy with anticipation.

Phil realized he was in the same alley, that ‘Charlie’ was facing him, leaning back against the same spot on the wall where he’d smashed Bub’s face, his blood still wet on the bricks. “What is this?” he growled, instantly alert.

“I saw you. I saw what you did. It was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” Charlie licked his lips and grabbed Phil’s bloody shirt pulling him into a heated kiss.

Phil lost himself as the boy sucked on his tongue. God this kid was fucking good. But dangerous.

Phil finally ended the kiss with whimpering noises from Charlie. “What do you mean, you saw?” Phil’s voice was hard edged with danger.

Charlie’s eyes strayed upwards towards the balcony. “I was there, just checking out the crowds when I saw the fight.” His hands roamed Phil’s body, grabbing, touching the older man. “I was gonna try and distract them, but you... fuck, you took care of them. All fucking three of them. God that was so hot.”

Phil smirked, “You liked that? The violence? The blood?” he grabbed Charlie’s hands and pinned them over his head, rubbing them in the still wet blood.

Charlie bucked into Phil’s body moaning, “Yes, fuck yes, all of it. The way you looked. The way you moved. Want you so bad. Want you to fuck me.”

Phil smirked and turned the younger man around, to face the wall. “Kinky little bastard.”

“You should talk. I saw the wood you were sportin’ when you left this alley.”

Phil laughed, “Hell, I came into this alley with that wood. I was looking for a place to find a good fuck.” He rolled his hard cock into Charlie’s ass. “Know where I can find one?”

“Fuuuck,” Charlie moaned. “Yes, me, fuck yes. Fuck me.”

Phil still held Charlie’s hands in one of his pinned against the wall. With his other hand he began to pop open the buttons of the leather pants, teasing his cock along the way.

“Wait!”

Phil froze. “What? Change your mind?”

Charlie scrambled out of Phil’s hold. “No, fuck god no!” he dropped to his knees. “But all I could think about was how much I wanted to taste you. To smell the blood on you, to suck your cock.” His hands flew over the front of Phil’s khakis as he opened the fly.

“Oh,” Phil gasped when Charlie’s face pressed into his groin, inhaling his musk and the scent of blood on his clothes.

“Fuck. God you smell so good.” Charlie’s eyes fluttered as he looked up at Phil.

“You want to suck me, then get to it,” Phil growled, looking down at Charlie’s face with the eyeliner and pink gloss. He remembered wanting that shade on his dick and now his dick was throbbing with that need.

“Yes sir!” Charlie pulled down Phil’s Khakis and briefs, his hard cock flopping out nearly hitting Charlie in the face. “Fuck Pete, you’ve got a gorgeous cock.”

Phil barely had a second to remember that ‘Pete’ was the name he’d given the kid before his cock was swallowed. “Ngggh fuck yes. Suck me. Put that pretty pink lipstick all over my cock.”

His words sent Charlie into a frenzy, his head bobbed up and down on Phil’s hard cock till he gagged. Coughing, he gasped, “Sorry, m’sorry. I can do better.”

Phil grabbed Charlie’s chin. “No. Time to fuck.” He pulled the younger man up and spun him into the wall.

“Yes,” Charlie moaned as Phil opened his leather pants and yanked them down exposing his ass.

“So sweet,” Phil said as he grabbed the full firm young globes of Charlie’s ass. “I am so gonna wreck you.”

“Make me feel it. Fuck me hard and dirty.”

“Oh, you’re gonna feel it all right boy.” Phil shoved two fingers into Charlie’s mouth. “Suck or I go in dry,” Hhe growled.

Charlie moaned around Phil’s fingers getting them wet. He wanted to feel it, but he wasn’t that much of a glutton for punishment.

“That’s it, get them nice and wet.” Phil was rutting his cock in the crease of the boy’s ass, rubbing his pre-cum all over that perfect high ass.

Charlie spit out Phil’s fingers. “Fuck me. Just fuck me.”

Phil grabbed one ass cheek and pulled it aside, revealing the boy’s sweet pink hole. “Yes. Fuck yeah, gonna make it hurt for you.” His wet fingers dipped into Charlie’s hole. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Sweat began to roll down Charlie’s back as he shook with the effort stay still and not rock back on the fingers plunging into him. “I’m good, fuck me, please. God, just fuck me already!” he swore.

Phil snatched his fingers out of Charlie’s hole and crowded him against the wall, lining his cock up. “You want it?” he growled. “You want my cock? I’ll give it to you.”

Phil plunged into Charlie’s ass in one harsh thrust causing the younger man to yell out. “Yess! Oh yea!” He slammed his hand against the wall in the drying blood.

Phil began to piston his hips in harsh thrusts. “I’ll fuck you, you’ll feel it next week, I’ll fuck you so hard. That’s what you want, baby, isn’t it?” He took a handful of the boy’s shaggy hair and tugged hard snapping the boy’s head back for a hard kiss.

Charlie took Phil's lip between his, sucking on it and then biting down hard, drawing blood.

"Ow! Fuck!"

Charlie licked into Phil's mouth, searching out the blood, groaning at the taste of it on his tongue.

"So you really are one of those vampire freaks." Phil growled. "How about I bite you back?" Phil thrust into the boy's ass with hard fast stroke and pulled his hair exposing his flushed neck and bit down hard, there would definitely be a bruise.

Charlie's back bowed and he came untouched. "Aaarrggghhh yesssss!!"

The boy's orgasm milked Phil's out of him as his strokes stuttered and he filled Charlie's tight ass with his come. "Shitfuckfuckyesfuck!"

'Charlie' used the wall to keep him upright. "Oh fuck that was... SO good. I'm gonna feel it. Don't want it to fade. Wanna remember it." His voice was slurred, still on a high from coming so hard.

Phil chuckled behind him, slowly withdrawing from the boy's tight firm body causing a hiss of pain. "Yeah."

After catching his breath, Charlie started to pull up his pants but Phil stopped him.

"Wait," he said, turning Charlie to face him. "I've got something else for you that you can remember me by."

Charlie smiles at him. "Told you, wasn't hustlin. This was all for me."

"Then you're gonna love this."

Charlie froze hearing the snick of Phil's blade as it opened. "Fuck. Fuck fuckfuckfuck." His heartbeat raced.

Phil's eyes darkened. "Relax, I wouldn't harm such a pretty face. It's just a memento."

Charlie thought Phil might give him the blade, until he felt the tip of it at his thigh. "What?... ahhhgh...please...uhhhnnng!"

Phil swiftly carved a small "P" into Charlie's thigh, high and outside, so it wouldn't cut into an artery, but would leave a scar on the boy's fresh young skin.

He leaned in and whispered in Charlie's ear, "You're mine now. Remember that."


	4. Shot Through the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this last chapter has taken so long. Life sort of took a sideways turn on me, hopefully for the better. 
> 
> Thanks again for the quick beta by AmazonX

 

“You shot me!”

 

“I am aware of that.”

 

“You FUCKING SHOT ME!”

 

“Repeating yourself won’t change the fact.”

 

Clint was enraged. He knew that SHIELD had been tracking him. He had been approached about three months ago by that freak with the eye patch about joining up. He told them he would let them know, and he had.

 

“Why the fuck did you shoot me?! I called SHIELD for this meet! Fury wants me recruited not dead!”

 

“I’m aware of what Director Fury requires. I however, have a different plan.”

 

The man stepped further into the light and Clint could see him better. He looked like any other bland guy in a suit, a really well cut suit, but still bland-looking. Medium height and build, slightly thinning hair. Clint couldn’t see his eyes behind the Aviator glasses.

 

Clint got up in his face, not a bad face from what he could see. The guy had a strong jaw, he was about a decade older that Clint, not that he had a thing for older guys…ok, he did. “Then what is your plan if not to recruit? Because frankly, you better have a fucking good medical benefits program. Because you shot me in the thigh over a particularly sentimental scar that I’m really fucking pissed to possibly be without now.”

 

“Scars can be identifying, that’s not good in our business.”

 

“Bullets leave scars.”

 

The guy in the suit took off his glasses finally and Clint was staring into a pair of eyes that haunted him for the last ten years. “So do knives.”

 

"Pete..." Clint breathed the name, like he had so many times in the middle of the night with sweaty sheets wrapped around his naked body, writhing in pleasure and memory.

 

"Phil actually, Phil Coulson. And you're Clint Barton. But if you're really good, I might call you Charlie." Phil's grin was predatory and Clint's heart sped up.

 

"How? What? I don't understand?"

 

"Luck really. Fury recruited me about six months after New Orleans. He seemed to like my particular skill set and aptitude with knives.  I worked my way up in SHEILD and now I'm a specialist handler, specifically, I'm your handler, or rather I'm Hawkeye's. I'd heard of you of course, never realizing who you were. But when I saw the photo in your file, I couldn't believe the sweet little twink with a blood fetish was now a world class assassin. I practically came in my pants with anticipation," Phil said.

 

"Fuck."

 

"I can do that. And I'm going to, very soon," Phil said throwing Clint against the alley wall just like he'd done years before. "Of course, I'm duty-bound to say that any physical relationship between handler and specialist is in no way required as part of your job duties with SHEILD." Phil's hand slid down Clint's cheek and wrapped around his throat causing the younger man's eyes to dilate and breath to hitch. "But you know that's not what's going to happen between us don't you, 'Charlie'?"

 

"I'm a lot different than I was ten years ago," Clint claimed.

 

Phil's hand slowly wandered down Clint's now much-broader chest. "I can see that. You're stronger, you'll give me more of a fight. Mmmm... your arms are a work of art." His hands finally covered Clint's erection. "But you're still the same twisted little bastard who begged me to fuck him and then let me carve him, aren't you?"

 

Rather than answer Clint lunged forward and kissed Phil. It was full of teeth and tongue and Phil gave just as hard. He crowded Clint against the wall rubbing his own hard cock against Clint's thigh.

 

"You're just begging for it, aren't you, boy?"

 

"Not a boy anymore," Clint grunted thrusting back into Phil.

 

"I can tell. But you are, you're my boy. I marked you ten years ago, and I did again tonight." Phil's thumb pressed into the nearly forgotten gunshot wound.

 

"FUCK!"

 

Phil smirked. "We'll get to that. Right now, I've got a question."

 

"What?"

 

"Do you want to join up or not?"

 

Clint let out a breathy laugh, "Well, I do like your benefits package."

 

Two hours later Agent Coulson led SHEILD's newest recruit into their New York headquarters still bleeding and limping. Everyone noticed Coulson's smug smile. Nobody paid attention to Hawkeye's similar smile.


End file.
